ANCHORS FOR A HEART AND SOUL
by swifters
Summary: A team member is subjected to an unprovoked attack. Danny whump/Steve angst/bromance.


**I know this type of thing has been done loads already, but I LOVE the ones I've read and couldn't help but have a go at it myself. Plus I** ** _needed_** **a fix of plot-free Danny-whump. A couple of great new big multi-chapter fics that just started on here (Irene Claire/ KomodoQueen and Tracey450…..I might just love you) have me all fired up and I needed a big hit like NOW!**

 **A one shot. Quite literally. But don't worry- I would never actually kill any of the core 4. Or Lou, for that matter.…**

 **Disclaimer- not mine. I wish.**

 **Warnings- swearing and a touch of gore. Danny whump/Steve angst/bromance.**

 **Acknowledgements- Irene Claire; story-approver extraordinaire, ace thinker-upper of titles AND birthday girl. If I had known, this would have been a birthday fic. In fact, I know now- let's call it a birthday fic anyway! HAPPY BIRTHDAY IRENE CLAIRE!**

ANCHORS FOR A HEART AND SOUL

The asphalt was cold and wet, the pain hot and fiery.

It burned and burned, the pressure unbearable and inescapable. He tried to breathe, tried so hard, as the rain pelted his face. He felt like he was drowning. He shook, trembled from head to foot, shock and fear and _agony_ holding him in a merciless grip.

The sky above was iron gray and the wind screamed, wild and untameable.

He was scared.

He was dying.

He opened his mouth, wide, tried to call for help. He choked instead, the rich metallic tang of blood bubbling up in his throat. His vision blurred. His life should be flashing before his eyes, wasn't that how it was supposed to go? He wished it would, wished he could see his kids one last time, but it wasn't happening. There was no blissful escape from the hell of the here-and-now.

Then he felt strong hands grip his shoulder, cup his face. Steve. SuperSEAL coming to the rescue. Not this time. He couldn't save Danny this time. Steve's face, slate blue eyes wide with terror, bore an expression Danny had never seen even before. His mouth was moving, he was shouting, _yelling_ in Danny's face, but he couldn't hear the words. He could only hear his own heart, pumping the blood from his body with every traitorous beat.

He held Steve's gaze, refused to let it go, clinging to it like a drowning man. There was a flurry of activity around them, he could sense the movement, but he saw nothing but the shocked eyes of his best friend.

Then pressure, _more_ pressure on the gaping hole in his chest. His back arched as a whole new level of white hot agony tore into him. His vision blackened and he would have screamed, but his mouth filled with blood. It bubbled out, running down his chin, his cheek. He didn't pass out, he _wanted_ to pass out, to escape, but it seemed there was no escape from this nightmare, no reprise. Maybe it was punishment for his many wrongs.

He opened his eyes again, searching for Steve, searching for his anchor, panic flaring when he wasn't there, when he saw strangers' faces instead, urgent and focused but impassive, disconnected. There was something in his mouth, now, something in his _throat_. They were trying to help him, he knew that, but it was _terrifying_ and he would have fought them if he could have. He was trapped, pinned and broken, helpless, utter panic blossoming.

But then Steve was back, his strained face- upside down for some reason- so close Danny could feel his warm breath on his cheek. Steve gave him what he needed, the intensity of his gaze dragging Danny back from the abyss. His hands cupped Danny's cheeks, thumbs swiping his tears away. His lips were moving again and Danny realized he could hear his words now. Or maybe it was a figment of his imagination, maybe his mind was supplying the words he knew his friend would say. It didn't really matter. He looked into those familiar eyes and he listened.

"I'm here, Danno, I'm here. You're gonna be okay. Fight it, okay? Fight for Grace and for Charlie. They need you buddy, you've gotta hold on. _I_ need you. If you let go I'm gonna kick your ass, you hear me?"

Danny was suddenly still, suddenly calm. He longed to reach up, to touch Steve's face, to tell him it was okay, it wasn't his fault, tell him he was sorry he couldn't hang on. That he'd tried, he really had. Ask him to take care of Grace, of Charlie. But it was impossible. He just held Steve's gaze.

Steve looked into his eyes, looked into his _soul._ His lips stopped moving, the words petered out. Words were unnecessary, Danny realized. Steve just _knew._ Knew what he wanted to say. Knew there was nothing he could do.

He saw Steve's eyes fill, a tear track down his cheek.

He was so, so sorry he was causing Steve pain, so sorry he wasn't going to be there to watch his back, so sorry that he was leaving the man just like everyone else in his life had.

Regret the foremost thing in his mind, he could have cried out with frustration as reality chose that moment to blur, to fade away to nothing.

…

He cracked his eyes open. A bright, white light surrounded him.

He seemed to be floating, yet his limbs were incredibly heavy- he couldn't move them. He was helpless, at the mercy of…what? Indecipherable shapes moved around in the periphery of his vision, taunting him.

The afterlife was something he had purposefully avoided thinking about since life and logic had beat the beliefs he had been raised with into submission many years before. But there was no more putting it off, no more room for avoidance. So, the heaven and hell thing? Was it real? The bright light said 'heaven' but Danny knew there was no way on God's earth he would be going that way, not after the things he had done, the things he _hadn't_ done. Not after Matt, not after Reyes, not after the countless lives he had taken in the course of his duty. No way could a man like him go up the way.

Fear burgeoned, fear of the unknown, fear of what would come next. His breaths quickened, his heart beat faster. A smouldering pain ignited in his chest, right where the bullet had gone in, right where that man had shot him, point blank, while Danny was doing nothing more offensive than locking up his car in the Palace parking lot. Hell, Danny didn't even know who he was- he had thought the guy was coming over to ask for directions, something innocuous like that. It was so, so unfair. He should have been on his guard, he should have been suspicious. Steve would be mad as hell with him.

The pain grew, steadily, inexorably, the rising agony robbing him of his breath and answering the question of where he was.

He knew now. He was in hell.

He clamped his eyes shut, as if that act alone might allow him to hide.

He shook his head, face screwing up as the pain washed over him, through him, tearing him up from the inside out. It _hurt_ to breathe, he wanted to stop. Why did he even still need to breathe? It made no sense, he didn't understand, but he _did_ have to breathe, he needed air and every breath hurt like a knife to the chest. Just another part of his torment, the penance for his many sins. And this was it, this was all he had to look forward to for eternity.

He felt wronged all of a sudden, _angry_. He _had_ done terrible things, unforgivable things. But he'd always _tried_ to do the right thing. He'd always had a reason. Surely they realized that? And he'd done good things too. He'd helped people, victims, brought bad guys to justice. Surely that counted for _something._ He'd done everything he ever could for his baby girl, and now for his son. He loved them with all his heart.

Now he'd never see them again. They'd grow up without him. Stabbing grief hit him, grief for what he had lost, what he had left behind.

Unbearable pain, surpassing anything his body could ever do to him, tore at his heart. The devastation, the complete desolation, swept through his body and he sobbed. But his body wasn't ready for that and he choked, then he couldn't breathe anymore at all and he panicked, trying to thrash, relentless waves of screaming pain ripping through him.

His eyes filled with tears. They burned his skin as they leaked from the corners of his tightly closed eyes.

But then someone swiped the tears away, someone with a big, warm hand. Someone was talking to him. "Easy, easy, you're okay, Danno, take it easy, just breathe, just breathe."

Danny would have gasped in utter shock if he could have got enough oxygen into his lungs to do the job. The soothing words, spoken with an unmistakable edge of panic, had to be a figment of his imagination. Steve couldn't be with him because Steve wasn't dead. Was he? Danny latched onto the voice, the one familiar thing in a terrifyingly unfamiliar place. He gulped, trying to do as he was told, trying to breathe, trying to shut out the pain, even as his mind tried to process the implications of what was happening.

Oh God, please don't let Steve be dead too…. Danny didn't want that, he didn't want that at all. Steve was meant to be indestructible, he was meant to look after Danny's kids! He hoped his friend hadn't suffered, hoped he hadn't felt the suffocating pain and fear that Danny had.

Steve was speaking again, but not to him, to someone else. It was his no-nonsense, in-command voice. Trust Steve to continue to be a control freak when they were actually in hell. He was dimly aware of a second voice, distorted but eerily calm, then a strange, warm feeling spread through him.

The pain eased. Danny could breathe. He lay, panting, feeling that warm hand on his cheek. He wanted to open his eyes to search out that familiar gaze, his anchor, but everything just drifted away again.

…..

Steve sat, stock still, at Danny's bedside in a state of complete and utter shock. The last week had been a vision of hell.

It was meant to be a quiet day, when it had happened. A day spent catching up on paperwork, watching the rain batter the windows from the refuge of the office. He had come in early, but hadn't been surprised to see Danny's Camaro already in the parking lot. He'd parked up, taken a swig of the coffee he'd picked up on the way, relaxed and unhurried. He had got out, wandered towards the entrance, walked by Danny's car…

From that point everything had gone to complete and utter shit, because Danny was there, all alone, lying flat on the ground behind his car. He was trying to breathe, just trying to breathe, fingers grasping spasmodically at nothing, a gaping hole bubbling in his chest, blood trickling from his mouth.

Steve would never, ever, forget that moment for as long as he lived, it was etched on his soul. He would never forget finding his partner lying in that pool of bloody rainwater, he would never forget the feeling of Danny's hot blood gushing between his fingers, the sickening gurgle as his chest rose and fell. He would never forget the look on Danny's face as he silently pleaded with Steve, silently apologised. Danny _knew_ he was dying. They _both_ knew it. That was the worst part of the whole thing.

Paramedics had been passing, had been there instantly, otherwise Danny really would have died right there in the parking lot, bleeding out while Steve shouted in his face, begged him not to let go.

They had nearly lost him anyway. He had crashed in the ambulance, crashed in the ER, crashed in theater. A single high-calibre bullet fired from close range- he _should_ have been dead. The damage was extensive. His right lung was badly damaged, his _heart_ was damaged for God's sake. He really should have been dead. But he had survived.

Steve couldn't stop shaking. He hadn't stopped shaking from the moment he had his first sight of Danny's supine, helpless figure. His gaunt face, bearing several days' worth of beard growth, bore a haunted expression. He was pale, drawn and haggard, his eyes red-rimmed because tears had fallen silently more than once.

He hadn't left Danny's side from the moment he'd been allowed in to his room, from the moment his partner was finally out of the OR and relatively stable. Their friends, Danny's family- they all came and went, in and out, every day. They spoke to Danny, spoke to him. Told him he should look after himself too. But Steve couldn't go, no way. Couldn't leave, couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. It would be like the ultimate betrayal, doing something _normal_ while Danny lay here, hovering between life and death. He stayed, dozing in the chair for an hour here and there, picking at the food people brought him.

But his partner was strong, resilient and pig-headed. He fought tooth and nail. They had weaned him off the ventilator, reduced the sedation. They waited.

Brain damage was the issue now. Was Danny still in there after what had happened to him? If he was there, the road to recovery would still be long, but he would get there- Steve would see to it that he got there. But if he was gone, if his body was an empty shell or if he was so damaged he was disabled, not really _his_ Danny anymore… Those were scenarios Steve could simply not get his head around, not yet.

So Steve waited for him.

And Danny had woken up. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't nice to see and it hadn't lasted long. He had been in pain, had panicked. His eyes were open but he seemed to see nothing. The whole experience had left Steve drained, nauseous. But at least Danny _had_ woken up _._ It was a start. There was hope.

Now Steve sat even closer, watched him even more attentively, knowing it would happen again, needing to be right there to tell him he was safe, to try to keep him calm. Hoping he might see Danny in there, somewhere, this time.

He was so tired. He blinked, his mind suddenly drifting to the man who had shot Danny. The team had identified him in minutes from the Palace CCTV. It had happened seconds, literally seconds before Steve had arrived. He would never, ever forgive himself for stopping to get that coffee.

Chin, Kono and Lou had hunted the man down like the animal that he was. Because there is, occasionally, some justice in this world, he had drawn his gun on them, tried to put up a fight. Three bullets centre mass, one from each gun, had finished him instantly. The bastard was dead. But that left them wondering _why._ There was no connection with Danny that they could find, the guy had no convictions for violent crime. It was senseless. There was no reason. That was hard to deal with.

Steve dragged a hand over his face, damping down the anger. There was no place for it here at Danny's bedside. He opened his eyes again, looked at Danny's pale face.

Danny's eyes were open.

For a moment Steve couldn't breathe. This was new, this was _different._ Danny's eyes were open and he was _looking_ at him.

He lurched forwards, one shaking hand finding Danny's cheek, one resting on his arm. But he was suddenly _scared_. He was scared of meeting a blank, expressionless, empty gaze. He was still scared he'd lost his friend. He found he couldn't bring himself to meet Danny's eye, not properly, not yet. His own eyes darted from Danny's, to the readings on the machines he was connected to, and on to his partner's lax hand. He was putting off the inevitable.

He knew he had to speak, to re-assure Danny, to keep him calm. Steve's lips moved, but it took a few moments for any sound to come out. The words, when they came, sounded wrong, his voice croaky, weak and emotional. Uncertain. "Hey buddy! Hey, it's good to see you, Danno!" It was an admirable try. He risked a quick glance at Danny's face, but if anything he looked confused, not re-assured, not connected.

Steve shut his eyes for a moment, dipped his head, then raised it again, huffing out a deep breath. He cleared his throat, tried for a stronger, more re-assuring tone. "Danny, you're going to be fine…". He tailed off, too tired, too emotional to find the right thing to say. Too close to tears and that sure as hell wouldn't help.

He gave in. His gaze fixed on Danny's and finally rested there. He searched those clear blue eyes, praying the man he loved like a brother was still in there.

Danny held his gaze.

Steve chuffed out a noise that might have been a sob, or a laugh, because he saw his partner behind those blue eyes. Steve saw the trust and the love there, in the intelligent gaze. He felt the _need_ Danny had right then for this basic connection with him, anchoring him to life. It felt like Danny's eyes were looking into his soul. Then he knew, he remembered, he didn't need to find the right words to say, the meaningless platitudes and reassurances, because Danny just _knew_. He knew Steve. He knew what Steve wanted to say.

Danny looked in Steve's eyes and saw what he needed. He saw his anchor. The details of what had happened, what would happen- they could wait. He knew Steve was with him, Steve had his back- would always have his back, would be by his side through anything and everything still to come. And he knew Steve had been scared shitless, but he was going to be okay. _They_ were going to be okay.

 _Danny had made it_.

THE END

 **Erm, so, bit OTT maybe. However, first attempt at a one shot...what did you think...?**


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